


Alone Protects Me

by hopefruitsix



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, BAMF Sherlock, Broken John, Broken John Watson, Happy Ending, Heavy Angst, John is a Mess, John needs help, Learning to Belong, M/M, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rut, Sherlock Being Sherlock, Sherlock Helping John, Sherlock Loves John, Sherlock is a Mess, True Love, True Mates
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-10-23
Updated: 2017-10-23
Packaged: 2019-01-21 17:52:51
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12462840
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefruitsix/pseuds/hopefruitsix
Summary: Following the death of his wife, John begins reverting to his Alpha instincts and slips into a Rut. To save his friend from entering a Dark Rut state, however, Sherlock must risk himself, including his well-maintained untouchable omega persona and possibly his life...Sherlock doesn’t hesitate to sacrifice either.





	Alone Protects Me

"He doesn't want you here, Sherlock." Molly says softly, her brown eyes reflecting the sorrow and hurt her words clearly cause in the omega's trembling before her.Â 

The pain of remembering how the Alpha chose her and how she died nearly causes Sherlock's knees to buckle.Â 

"But... but I need to see him."

"He doesn't want to see you John.

"He's hurting. I want to help him.

 

 

 

Sherlock's mouth drops. "I- I'm here to help him though. 

 

“John are you listening?” Sherlock practically stomps his foot and for a second he’s glad there is in fact a closed door between them so he doesn’t give John more fuel for treating him like a child. The noncommittal rumbled grunt from the other side of the door is enough to keep Sherlock talking. 

It’s hard to stay focused, however, as he tries to elaborate on the fascinating details of a level nine case.

The alpha’s flat is even more hormone-ridden than usual, the air thick with John’s strong, ozone pungent spicy scent. Sherlock inwardly thanks his cleverness for taking an extra injection of suppressants before coming over. Even still, he’s quite upset with his transport for getting so distracted as he tries to explain the particulars of the evidence; he’s already missed several key details. As he continues, it strikes him as being a rather less remarkable case than it seemed to him before coming over. Well, it’s still an eight for sure.

John yanks open the door and shoves the omega aside. Sherlock gasps. Despite that fact John has doused himself in alpha-dampening cologne Sherlock could probably smell him a mile away. He hesitates before continuing on his train of thought.  
  
John smells _gorgeous._  
  
Tangy. Dark. Wood-smoked musk.

Stop it! Get control of yourself you idiot!

He returns to elucidating on the complicated actions of Mr. Wetherstone, watching John stride about his house. He stops talking again when he realizes he’s been calling the blackmailer by his brother’s name for the last two minutes. 

John’s wearing a deep navy shirt that shows off the natural breadth and musculature of his broad body, as well as bringing out his dark blue his eyes. The ever-present alpha bulge in his jeans is noticeably more intimidatingly obvious. There’s a sheen of sweat across the furrows of his forehead, and his short steel grey hair has been slicked back. He looks incredibly handsome. Sherlock deduces however this look isn’t for him. He’s going out on the prowl or to date someone. A quick scan of how he missed a spot of dark stubble tells Sherlock John’s out to date someone he knows but isn’t overly worried about impressing. It’s that damn little ginger omega police office who practically throws himself at John whenever he sees him.

“John, what are you doing?”

“What does it bloody look like I’m doing. I’m going out,” he snarls. “You told me you didn’t want my help on the case. If you’re going to be so fucking lax about your own life why then so be it.”

“You can’t go out tonight. I need your help. I need you to be ready in case he comes back to London.”

“Wait a minute. You don’t want my direct help and protection but you expect me to sit around waiting for your call on the off chance you need me? You already had me miss my last three dates, Sherlock.” John roars.

He’s been slowly stepping up to Sherlock and while Sherlock is no little mealy omega he can’t help but flinch slightly, reminded of the strength of those big fists now clenching at John’s sides. He pushes past the irrational fear and says, “I might need your help later and if you’re, ahem, in coitus, you won’t be able to come right away.”

“Fine!” John snarls but not before giving a low and mean growl. “But you better take another suppressant. You smell like you’re going into a fucking heat.”

“Me? You stink like you’ve bathed in a pool of testosterone.”

“Get out.” John says. “I’ll stay but get the hell out of my house right now, Sherlock.”

Glad to get his way Sherlock departs.

****************************  
Let me know if I should continue this story. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated.


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